rain, rain, here to stay

⛈rain :: 26 :: leo⛈

[aspenwritesstuff]

Part Three

prev | masterlist | next (soon)

warnings: angst, feelings of guilt and isolation, misplaced anger, scars mention, mental health struggles,

wc: 7553

"You told them about Hyunjin, the beautiful boy you were charged with transferring the remaining shreds of the dream you’d always dreamed to." "You told them how, despite your disdain, teaching Hyunjin forced you to make an effort to be human again. To be alive. To wash clothes and wear them clean after taking a shower. To leave your apartment." "You told them how, in a way, it was because of Hyunjin that you’d finally broken your silence today. How wrong it felt to be better for a stranger when the two of them had been waiting for so long."

a/n: hey, hi, hello. I'd like to thank any of you who are still around to read this. From the bottom of my heart. I know I've been very inconsistent, and for that I apologize. I'm trying to pace myself, and slowly return to writing. Updates will be happening with more regularity now that I'm back to it! Comments, reblogs, asks...all of those things really light the fire in me to write, and are very deeply appreciated! So please let me know if you enjoy my work. Enough of my prattling, please enjoy part three!

with love and forehead smooches (if you consent),

-Aspen

taglist: @findingjieunn @hyynee @hyunverse @dreamstarsandskz @linaliann permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts @notastraykid @abiaswreck

Gray clouds and the distant call of thunder encased Seoul today, despite how nice the weather had been the day prior. It was days like this that were meant for staying in, avoiding getting caught in the inevitable storm, filling your time with something mindful.

Days like this had once been reserved for painting, locked away in the studio as the sky bellowed its approval over each brushstroke. Days like this meant the completion of a work that had been left unfinished, allowing motivation to come from the weeping sky. Days like this, and the work that went into them, had only been allowed interruption by one thing - your friends.

Changbin and Felix, the sole bearers of the right to break your focus whilst poring over a canvas. 

Days like these were once reserved for them, too. Movies that none of you really watched, talking over them about anything and everything. Laughter regardless of what was playing. Comfort regardless of the impending downpour.

What were days like this supposed to be now? When the thought of a brush in your hand was enough to bring about the ache in your heart that you couldn’t quite get used to, despite its frequency. The longer the monochrome sky loomed overhead, the longer the obvious answer hammered at your psyche.

They were the only thing left meant for days such as these.

You could call them. You could reach out in hopes that they hadn’t quite given up, despite your prior avoidance. It would be easy, just the tap of a few buttons on a screen. A child could do it, and yet you found yourself struggling to get past the menu.

Guilt has a funny way of complicating things.

Prior to the accident, and the subsequent lack of contact, reaching out to Changbin and Felix had been effortless - simply a part of your day-to-day routine, requiring little to no forethought. 

Now, however, you were terrified.

Your phone felt much heavier than it should have in your hands as you stared at the long-neglected group chat on your screen - the accompanying double digit number next to it taunting you with its reminder of just how long you’d been absent. Just how long you’d avoided speaking to the two.

How long was too long to ignore somebody before they’d stop considering you a friend?

Talking to them meant facing the possibility that your actions - or, rather, lack thereof - could have destroyed the only two friendships you’d ever cared to maintain. 

Until you actually spoke to them, you could live in ignorance. 

Until you actually spoke to them, you could assume they still wanted you around. 

Until you actually spoke to them, they were the only thing that hadn’t changed.

That just served to make the notion of finally reaching out absolutely petrifying.

These were the same boys you’d stay up laughing ‘til sunrise with, so deliriously tired that everything had become funnier than it should’ve been. The same boys that, rather than letting you fend for yourself, allowed you to follow them around like a duckling as they showed you the ins and outs of Seoul. The same boys who’d all but drag you from your studio when you’d forget to eat in the midst of a big project, bringing you to the diner for your favorite burger.

These were the same boys who brought new flowers to your bedside every week, even when you wouldn’t so much as look at them when they did.

You tapped the thread, swallowing both the lump in your throat and your pride as you read the messages you’d missed - maintaining your composure up until you got to the most recent two, sent only a day ago.

Felix: Honey, please talk to us? We’re really worried about you. Your mom said you’re home now, so maybe we could come by? I miss you a lot. 

Changbin: We could go to the diner if you want? I’ll pay even though it’s your turn. Nothing feels right without our favorite girl, okay? Love you.

Your heart squeezed tightly in your chest as you hiccuped, unsure if it was shame that you’d doubted they’d stick around or relief that you were wrong that finally broke the dam - but broke it did as hot tears blurred your vision. 

So many things had been ripped from you - violently, remorselessly, suddenly. Your future, your outlet, your joy, all gone in a terrible symphony of metal against metal. Your dreams snatched away by the malicious hand of fate, dangled above your head - just far enough away to taunt you, to remind you that it still existed, just not for you. Reminding you that everything had changed.

Everything, it seemed, except for Changbin and Felix.

Undeserving didn’t even begin to cover the way you felt. After all of this time, receiving nothing at all but radio silence from you, these two men had been contacting you - at least one of them, at least once a day - since the accident. 

You scrolled up, noticing that they’d never once gotten angry. They’d never once blamed you. They’d told you about their days, their lives, what happened at work, changes to the diner’s menu, and - always - how much you were missed. Not once did either of them condemn your behavior. Not once did either of them criticize you.

And you’d ignored them. Treated them as if they, and their unending support in spite of your withdrawal from them, didn’t matter. As if you didn’t need them. As if you were better off alone after suffering loss. 

All it took was shame weighing down your shoulders to remind you, though, that you weren’t - and never would be -  better off without Felix and Changbin.

How inexcusable it felt to have left them in the dark made your thumbs difficult to move. Two simple letters turned into near-impossible hurdles. The level of anger you’d expected to have to face from them had significantly raised your expectations. 

You had been ready to beg, to offer anything to make it up to them when the gloomy skies forced them into your mind. You were prepared to listen to lectures, to agree with them had they called you a bad friend.

You had been ready to face the possibility that they’d lost faith in you completely.

So, how were you supposed to just say, “Hi.” 

How could you simply address them casually as if you hadn’t neglected them? Hadn’t deserted them? Hadn’t forsaken them in the name of sorrow, shunned them for your own selfish pity?

How absolutely wrong it felt to simply greet them as if nothing had happened. How slimy it felt not to apologize a million times over, sinful not to grovel at their feet for forgiveness.

How heavy two little letters could become.

Yet, despite the painfully slow rate at which your trembling thumbs tapped against the glass, they were suddenly there. Sitting plainly, four lines and a dot - “Hi” - black against white. It waited, just as the long-neglected curves and lines of another word had - send - white against blue.

You suddenly understood why minimalism paintings were regarded in such a profound way, as everything inside of you screamed at the sight displayed on the screen. No longer did you question how a few strokes of a brush and a signature could justify more than a glance. Gone were your bitter thoughts over the success of such seemingly simple works. Four lines and a dot, black against white. Curves and lines, white against blue.

Hi. Send.

They were not as simple as they appeared on their own. Together, they were complex.

Complex enough to paralyze you.

Hi.You never used to find it this difficult, not once. The luxury most had when facing the unfortunate drifting from friends was not yours to have. You couldn’t simply exhale a plaintive sigh, asking forces unseen what had happened to what once was. It would be ridiculous to even entertain the notion. You knew what had happened and you bore the angry, red reminder of exactly what spurred the change.

The reminder that things would never be the same.

You never used to care for minimalism paintings. How could you have? They were just lines before. Just haphazard shapes pointlessly ruining a perfectly good canvas. Cruel irony, realizing the potential of the style now that your talent had been reduced to nothing more than fond memories that pained you to recall. Harsher still was the realization that the closest attempt you’d ever make at the style was staring at you from a screen dimming from disuse. A strange medium on stranger canvas, the credits for which would certainly raise brows: 

Eclipse, Hi, 2023, 6”x3” Thumbs on Glass. Your heart dropped at the use of your old habits from your days of gallery submissions. Despite barely qualifying as a piece of art, you’d gone ahead and planned out the label for the four lines and a dot, black against white. Despite your wounds, you’d forgotten the pain for just a moment - losing yourself in the meaning of curves and lines, white against blue. 

Forgetting, for a moment, that everything had changed.

Perhaps it was the surge of adrenaline that accompanied your panicked realization, maybe even a brief stroke of inspiration from your inadvertent first-attempt at a style you’d once hated. Those two little letters were no longer the heaviest thing on your heart - and, in comparison, were suddenly light. Before you could talk yourself out of sending those lines and dots off, you tapped the blue that housed curves and squiggles. Send.

The cartoonish whoosh carrying those two heavy little letters felt starkly out of place amidst the rolling of thunder and the thrumming pulse in your ears. Your legs bounced, anxious feet filling the silence with muffled taps as you waited. All you could do now was stare holes into the screen and hope. Hope that, despite your certainty, you were wrong. That everything hadn’t changed. 

That, if nothing else, this could be the same. They could be the same.

It felt like a form of purgatory, staring at a screen filled with tiny bubbles of even tinier lines, dots, and curves. Time seemed to me moving in strange ways - seconds felt like their own small eternities as you stared at your underwhelming message. 

You wondered if Felix and Changbin felt this way, too, during their admittedly much longer wait for a reply. Certainly they had. It would be difficult to imagine otherwise. If ten seconds felt this long to you, how long had these months felt for them? Your heart dropped at the thought, but rose quickly along with your pulse at the sight of three little dots moving at the bottom of the screen. 

Those three little dots disappeared and reappeared once, twice, and three times before a few sentences appeared on screen. You saw that it was Felix who’d answered first, but couldn’t bring yourself to read it for at least a minute. Although these two had constantly been checking in on you, despite your lack of answers, it was hard to completely let go of the possibility that they would be angry. Hurt.

They had a right to be, after all.

Once your nerves allowed you to skim the message, a melancholy calm washed over you. In typical form, Felix was perfectly understanding - and sweet - with his reply.

Felix: Oh my god, hi! How are you? I miss you so much.What you had done to deserve such an immediate and warm reaction to your return was beyond you, having fully expected at least a bit of resentment sent your way - yet there was none to be found. Perhaps you shouldn’t be surprised though, seeing as neither Felix nor Changbin had ever given you a reason to doubt the depth of their care for you.

Recalling that brought the ache of guilt - having gone hand in hand with the thoughts of the two for months now - back to the surface. The shift back from your cautious optimism nearly knocked the wind out of you in its abruptness.

Guilt, and its funny way of complicating things, resulted in paranoia at Changbin’s lack of response. Maybe you were foolish to feel hopeful at the warm, brief, comfort of Felix’s kind response. The lack of discontent Felix expressed at your return held no guarantee to extend to Changbin. He could very well hold onto an indignation towards you for trying to simply slide back into their lives after so long of icing them out. What if he wouldn’t forgive you? What if, due to this, your closeness with Felix - in spite of his unabashed eagerness - too, would lessen? What if..? Changbin: Never disappear like that EVER again, stupid.You couldn’t even find it within yourself to feel a shred of irritation at the insult, a buoyancy you’d nearly forgotten was possible surrounding your heart as it thudded hard in your chest. You weren’t sure where to go from here. Of course, an apology was in order, but beyond that…you were clueless. It felt shallow to apologize over text, though, for something as grievous as the vanishing act as you’d performed. You stared at the screen for several minutes, thumbs trembling over the keyboard projected against the glass as you held the phone in both hands, before you finally decided. 

You: Come over, please?

You’d been spurred into making your appearance, after all, been spurred to finally make an appearance by memories of stormy days spent together. Hoping the nostalgia was hitting the duo, too, was all you could do - eyes glued to the dancing gray circles at the bottom of your screen. Felix: Not gonna lie, I was running to my car the second your name popped up on my screen sweetheart.

Changbin: I’m quite literally already on my way.Felix: Thought you didn’t text and drive? Your principles, or whatever.Changbin: These circumstances allow exception.Changbin: And, for the millionth time, it’s JUTDAE.The ghost of a smile graced your lips as you witnessed their usual banter unfold - something you hadn’t realized you’d missed in your numbness. The shape of your lips felt foreign, though not uncomfortable, on your face. Your lack of reply was largely attributed to knowing Changbin would likely look away from the road to read whatever you would contribute to the conversation - but, it would be a lie to say that was the sole reason. Their imminent arrival gave you an unpleasant reminder that, aside from your sessions with Hyunjin, you hadn’t left the house - and cleanliness wasn’t typically associated with apathy.

From the couch alone, the mess was impossible not to notice. A lump of unwashed laundry could be seen from the cracked doorway of your bathroom, left there despite the hamper being in your bedroom one door down. The coffee table was littered with unwashed dishes, wrappers, and empty plastic bottles, and the blankets that you’d typically kept folded neatly were all strewn about - discarded on the floor or left on whichever piece of furniture you’d decided to brood on that day. 

You rarely went into your room when the boys were around, so you weren’t too concerned about the clothes and items littering the room’s floor and your bed. Your studio was, for obvious reasons, another room you didn't need to worry about...but you didn’t even want to think about the mess in the kitchen. You knew for a fact you hadn’t bothered soaking - let alone washing - any pots or pans you’d used. The murky dishwater in the sink - clouded by the few dishes you had picked up - wasn’t forgotten either. You scrambled to your feet, grabbing empty water bottles from the coffee table in front of you - stumbling in your rush to get them into the recycling bin before returning swiftly to the living room to gather the dishes you’d left behind in your indifference. You set them on the counter, having to use a bit of force to squeeze them into an open space far too small initially, before plunging your hand into the sink with a grimace and pulling the plug - draining the stagnant water from days ago. 

With the plug replaced, soap added, and the faucet turned on at a scalding temperature, you hurriedly put the dirty dishes in - grabbing the pots and pans to fill with a bit of water to let them soak in hopes that it appeared as though you weren’t living the way you had been for so long. A whispered curse left your lips as you abandoned the still-filling sink to make your way towards the bathroom - pulling the large pile of clothes into your arms with a soft grunt before trudging into your bedroom and tossing them into the hamper.

You had just gathered the wrappers from the table and thrown them away, on your way to pick up the blankets when you heard a rhythmic knock on the front door - there was no mistaking the one-three-one pattern as Changbin and Felix’s signature, seeing as you’d jointly decided as a group that this was how you’d all make it apparent who was visiting in case of a spontaneous drop-in.

Elation and panic weren’t necessarily an easy pair of emotions to blend together, but that didn’t stop your instant stiffening as your head spun to stare at the rich mahogany - knowing that, for what felt like the first time after an eternity, your friends had arrived.

Kicking blankets towards the corner as you crossed the room hurriedly, you turned the deadbolt and grabbed the knob. Goosebumps covered your arms as you held the cold metal in your hands for a moment - though you’d be remiss to blame it all on the chill - hesitating before turning it and pulling it open. “Hey,” you began before the door was even fully open, your anxiety apparent in the way your voice quavered on such a simple word, “Thanks for coming, I know that–” You were cut off by an abrupt, tightly set pair of arms wrapping around your body as Changbin, standing in front of Felix, crossed the threshold in one long and impatient stride. He didn’t say a word, simply crushing you in what could’ve easily been mistaken as a restraining hold rather than a hug. He was soon joined by Felix, who approached much more slowly and opted to hug you from the side - enveloping you between himself and Changbin with a sniffle that, despite being unable to see his face, made you absolutely certain he was crying.

“Don’t you ever disappear on us like that again,” Changbin muttered against the top of your head as he placed a chaste peck atop your unbrushed tresses, earning a nod felt against your shoulder as Felix silently agreed, likely afraid to speak considering his likelihood to sob the moment he made a sound.

The guilt you’d grown so accustomed to when you’d think about the two of them lurched in your stomach at the way relief had audibly invaded what you were sure Changbin had intended to be a scolding tone.

“I’m sorry…” you choked out, joining Felix in crying as you spoke the only words you could. The only words that felt proper, considering the circumstances. The only words appropriate after snubbing the only people with the potential to understand you during your darkest time.

“Changbin, don’t make them cry!” Felix reprimanded with a sniffle, squeezing you tighter as he shot his best attempt at a glare Changbin’s way.

“I would’ve cried anyway,” it was true, your response. If the guilt on its own wouldn’t have been enough to rouse your emotions, the relief that they came after all this time was.

Felix nodded, but sent Changbin one last playful glare as you were guided inside, making your way to the sofa in tandem, settling in to wait out the storms; raging outside and in your mind.

As the crying ceased on both Felix’s and your end, he and Changbin had questions. You’d been absent from their lives for so long, after all. It was only natural they wanted some answers.

You told them.. You told them every unpretty detail.

You told them about your hand, and how despite the effort you made in rehabilitation that it would never be the same. 

You told them about the scar, and how sometimes it would hurt as if to taunt you, to remind you as soon as you thought that you were maybe, possibly okay that you would never be again. 

You told them about your solitude, surrounded by the company of dirty dishes and overfilled hampers. 

You told them about your mother, and the ultimatum she gave you regarding the way you were living. 

You told them about Hyunjin, the beautiful boy you were charged with transferring the remaining shreds of the dream you’d always dreamed to.

You told them how, despite your disdain, teaching Hyunjin forced you to make an effort to be human again. To be alive. To wash clothes and wear them clean after taking a shower. To leave your apartment.

You told them how, in a way, it was because of Hyunjin that you’d finally broken your silence today. How wrong it felt to be better for a stranger when the two of them had been waiting for so long.

You told them how deeply, painfully sorry you were.

And, when they told you not to apologize and that they were never going to leave you behind, asking if you’d go shopping with them tomorrow?

You told them nothing would make you happier.

When the two of them left, you felt lighter. As though a great burden had been lifted from your shoulders…or, more accurately, distributed between three sets rather than being carried by you alone.

Changbin and Felix had only been gone for about an hour when the buzz of your phone alerted you to a message from an unfamiliar number.

???: Hey! I hope this isn’t a bad time. Ms. Park gave me your number!

???: This is Hyunjin, by the way.

You knew now who the messages were coming from, though more questions were acquired than answers. 

You typed and deleted several responses ranging from, “What do you want?” which you decided seemed a bit too rude, and “Why are you contacting me?” which seemed the same, only stiffer. You finally decided on a tried and true, much more casual:

You: What’s up?

It took only a few seconds for him to respond with a simple question that - from any other mentor - would seem reasonable. Yet your heart, once lightened by the reunion with your friends, seemed to gain several pounds as it plummeted uncomfortably into your stomach.

Hyunjin: Would you be willing to come with me to the art supply store? I’m new to oils and really don’t want to grab the wrong brushes.

Technically speaking, you were perfectly capable and more than qualified to fulfill this task. In fact, at risk of sounding vain, you may be one of the best people to help him out. If he’d have asked you prior to the accident, you’d have jumped on the opportunity to help an aspiring artist purchase their first set of oil-appropriate brushes.

Under different circumstances, you’d have found great joy - fun even - in browsing an art store with someone who wanted to be there. You’d often found yourself wishing for exactly that when you’d notice the bored expressions on Felix and Changbin’s faces on the rare occasions that you’d managed to convince them to tag along. 

This, however, was not under those circumstances.

You were not excited. You were not looking forward to it. You would never have wished for this in a million years.

And, despite the fact that Changbin and Felix were; you were not the same.

You debated ghosting him, acting as if you’d perhaps dozed off or set your phone down and lost track of time. You considered telling him to ask the clerk for help instead, despite knowing that they probably knew the bare minimum and were only working there for a paycheck, not passion, and would likely encourage him to buy the most expensive option rather than the most effective. You even considered simply saying, “No.”

You likely would have gone with any of these options had it not been for the way he’d grown on you. 

Perhaps it was his apologetic nature during last week’s lesson, when you’d displayed an unexpected level of emotion following his innocent query regarding you painting. 

Or perhaps it was the ease with which he offered to drop the subject. 

Maybe it could even have a little bit to do with the warmth of his work, and the way it made you feel something other than empty or angry - however briefly, before jealousy took over - for the first time since the accident.

Regardless of why, you did not, in fact, choose any of your reflexive responses. Instead, you agreed, telling him to meet you in about an hour, cleverly choosing a shop other than the one you were once a regular at despite the further distance. 

You simply couldn’t handle the barrage of questions Hyunjin would likely have should you be recognized; should it come to light that you had lied to him. That you were, in fact, a painter once.

Once.

The reminder, though self-inflicted, still stung as you gathered your bag and jacket, a pit in your gut still present even as you locked up and made your way to the roadside to hail a taxi. The drive did little to remedy it either, and you found yourself unable to match the smile you were greeted with as Hyunjin spotted you exiting the cab.

“Hey! Thanks again for agreeing even though it was last minute!” he called warmly, jogging up to meet you halfway.

You simply nodded, adjusting the bag over your shoulder and gesturing towards the shop in an attempt to occupy him with something other than expressing his thanks.

There wouldn’t be anything wrong with that if it weren’t for the way the brightness of his smile only seemed to accentuate the shadows of your envy, allowing it to grow and fester despite your intentions to be a good teacher to him.

Luckily, he took the hint without breaking stride, walking a few paces ahead of you as you entered the shop. You watched as he paused, eyes wide and curious, until he smiled once more upon spotting the aisle labeled brushes. You followed along at your same slow pace even as he rushed ahead towards it, finding him with two different sets in each hand as you caught up to him.

Reading the furrow of his brow as an internal debate over which was better, you spoke up from behind him, “Neither of those are what you want.”

He jumped, as if the few second gap between your arrivals in this aisle were enough to startle him. It was endearing, in a way, and you couldn’t help but let out the tiniest laugh in the form of a dry scoff.

Setting both sets down, Hyunjin chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head as he turned to face you, “Which ones then?” he asked, choosing not to acknowledge his brief moment of fright as he gestured with a grand sweeping motion to the display racks.

“Let’s see,” you murmured back to him, letting him off without any teasing, instead taking a few strides forward with your eyes on the rack and skimming each set for a specific logo - a simple white outline of a lily - belonging to the brand you preferred.

Used to prefer.

A pause imperceptible to anyone but yourself made itself in your stride, but you focused on the task at hand. You could handle this. It was just picking out brushes. It wasn’t a taunt from the universe, despite the way it felt. It wasn’t a cruel joke. It was just picking out brushes.

So why was your heart racing like you were about to get thrown into a pit of lions?

Swallowing your own nerves, you reached out to sift through the rack, finally producing the same set of brushes you’d once started with on your own journey, before it had been cut short, and handed it over to Hyunjin.

“These are gonna be your best bet,” you supplied, hoping he’d leave it at that.

Whether it was luck or a bit of intuition on Hyunjin’s part, he did just that.

“Thanks, I would’ve been staring at the rack like a fool for at least twenty minutes if not for you,” he said with a quiet laugh, tucking the set under his arm.

“Think of how many people could have startled you in that time,” you gave an attempt to banter, at which his quiet laughter exploded into a bright, vibrant cackle - out of place both from someone as beautiful as he was, and someplace as quiet as this.

He quickly smacked his hand over his mouth, eyes widening as he continued to snicker, “Since when are you funny?” he asked between subdued snorts.

“There’s more to me than you know.”

What a double-edged answer, considering all that you were actively hiding from him.

“Besides,” you began, keen to distract your mind from the discomfort of dwelling on secrets you kept from Hyunjin, “It wasn’t really that funny.”

A shake of his head prefaced the assurance you hadn’t asked for, “Trust me, I don’t laugh like that often! In fact, believe it or not, I try not to be noisy in quiet, public spaces.”

“Oh, is that so?” you responded with a laugh that felt foreign falling from your lips, shaking your head, “In that case, I will do my utmost to keep my hilarity to a minimum.”

Hyunjin exhaled a small snort from his nose, giving an over-dramatic bow - complete with a flourish - before speaking in an deliberately ostentatious tone, “I am most grateful.”

You shook your head, shoving his arm playfully to spur him back into standing, “Ready to check out?” you asked him, hoping the answer was yes. You wanted - no, needed - to leave. 

It wasn’t Hyunjin, by any means. If it were anything but art supplies, you’d actually have quite enjoyed this outing. Hyunjin was good company, once you’d given him a chance. You’d smiled more today than you had in a long while, your cheeks hurting from the lack of use prefacing today.

Hyunjin was warm, bright like the sun, perfectly good company. He was funny without being a tryhard. He was unabashed in his individuality, from the way he bantered to the guffaw you could still hear echoing in your mind.

It definitely wasn’t Hyunjin.

Despite not being your old favorite, being inside of a supply shop still gave you an unwelcome feeling of nostalgia. The scent was the same, regardless of what shop you went to, and you could swear the once-comforting aroma was now a foul stench, something you’d likely shower away when you got home.

“Just about, I need a couple canvases and a few tubes of paint,” he answered absently, blissfully unaware of just how dire of straits you were in.

You nodded, waving him away playfully with your hand in hopes he’d gather what he needed quickly, walking up the aisle to wait near the register for him. You weren’t about to abandon him here, now that the job of finding brushes he’d spontaneously tasked you with was complete. You weren’t that desperate.

It was close, though.

You crossed your arms, leaning back against the counter. A scoff was earned from the cashier, but you were more than used to ignoring people after your recent experience, allowing you to stay put without so much as an apologetic glance. 

You shuffled, growing antsier with every moment you waited for Hyunjin. You weren’t exactly spatially aware, and nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard a clatter following the brushing of your bag against the countertop.

“Sorry,” you muttered, ignoring the way the cashier rolled their eyes at you as you bent down to pick up what had fallen. 

It was obvious that it was a set of brushes, considering the shape of the package. As you lifted it, something possessed you; whether it be curiosity or masochism, you turned the set around in your hands to get a good look at it.

The first thing you noticed was a simple white lily.

What were the odds? Of anything you could’ve accidentally bumped, it just had to be something you were intimately familiar with? You shook your head, fighting the urge to roll your eyes before you realized that perhaps you weren’t as familiar with this set as you once thought.

Next to the logo was a small, ornate ‘7.’ The last you knew, there were only six sets from this brand. 

For the briefest moment, excitement coursed through your veins. Your eyes lit up, your lips twitched in anticipation of a smile. This brand always had such great improvements with every set they released, and you weren’t sure they’d ever release a new one. You owned all six prior sets, and wouldn’t part with them for anything in the world. 

And then it hit you.

And the smile that had begun forming dropped.

And you felt sick to your stomach.

Because you would not use these brushes. You no longer used the other six sets.

You would never feel the difference in the improved handle shape, how comfortable it would feel in your hand with the carefully formed grooves.

You wouldn’t buy them without a second thought, as you once would’ve. You wouldn’t rush home to lock yourself away until someone came to check on you; because you wouldn’t need checked on, considering you’d never get so sucked into painting that you’d forget the outside world ever again.

“Hey! Sorry I took so long!” Hyunjin chirped from behind you, making you jerk your head up towards him.

“Oh, uh, no problem,” you managed, though you sounded more robotic than you’d intended. You set the brushes down on the counter, quickly enough that you nearly knocked over the rest of the display, “I’m gonna wait outside, okay?” 

Confusion furrowed the man’s brow as he tilted his head, inquisitive gaze locked on you as though he could find the answers he sought in your face if he stared long enough, “Uh…sure. You okay?”

Damn him. 

Damn his earnest concern and his functional fucking hands. 

Damn his too-loud laugh and his ability to get so lost comparing sets of brushes that your return after only a few seconds startled him.

Damn his drive to improve, damn the way he made you smile, and damn the universe for bringing him into your life now; when you’d lost the ability to fully appreciate him.

“I’m fine,” you lied with a forced smile, nodding your head quickly, “Just need some air.”

“Oh…sure,” Hyunjin answered slowly, returning the smile - though the furrowed brows remained, betraying the concern he still felt. “I’ll try to be quick.”

“Take your time,” you called over your shoulder, having already been walking as fast as was socially acceptable indoors the moment you’d heard the first syllable of a positive response. 

Your chest felt tight, your heart in a vice as you gritted your teeth, forcing air into your lungs in short little gasps. The doors seemed so far, and your steps felt too slow…but you did eventually make it outside, sitting down on a bench as you ran a hand through your hair and stared up at the sky, focusing on getting your breath under control before Hyunjin was finished.

God forbid you give him yet another reason to worry. It was ironic that, despite becoming his mentor to avoid such a fate, you didn’t doubt he may be wondering if you should be institutionalized considering your proclivity to lose your composure around him.

By the time he returned, you were as composed as you’d get considering the thoughts swirling tumultuously in your mind. A tight lipped smile from your end was returned brightly by Hyunjin, all traces of furrowed brows and concern completely wiped from his now elated face.

“I didn’t take too long, did I?” he asked as you rose from the bench. 

“Not at all,” you shook your head as you spoke, silently grateful that he’d taken as long as he had. You didn’t want to imagine how he’d look right now if you’d still been struggling to breathe upon his return.

“That’s a relief,” his voice sounded…excited somehow. Like a child eager for praise - his eyes wide and bright and his lips still upturned happily. You wondered what, exactly, had brought him into this state of mind…though you didn’t need to wait long.

He reached into the white paper bag, his slender fingers grabbing something out and lifting it.

The first thing you saw; a white lily. The second; the number ‘7.’

Your stomach sank. Was this a joke? You already struggled to teach him, considering his ability to do what you no longer could…and now he was going to use the brushes you never would? Internally, you wondered if rage or sadness would  be more appropriate - despite the answer being neither, considering he didn’t know any better.

Damn him.

Damn his –

“I noticed you were looking at these when I came up to check out,” he began, cutting off your internal rant, and earning a disconcerted tilt of the head from you.

“And?” you asked, a bit too sharply to be towards someone who was simply making conversation. 

It isn’t his fault, don’t be a dick, you reminded yourself, gritting your teeth.

“And,” he drew out the word, treating your venom as though it was nothing more than a continuation of the simple banter you’d shared in the brush aisle, “I wanted to thank you for all of your help so far, but you don’t share much.” He paused, holding the set out towards you.

No. 

Oh, please no.

Your heart lurched into your throat as you realized…he didn’t buy them for his own use. He got them for you. 

He was giving you the very object that had spurred your hasty retreat from the shop in the first place. 

Damn him. 

Damn him and the way his eyes bored into yours, waiting for a response besides a dumbfounded drop of your jaw.

Damn him and the way that, despite thinking he had done something good, he was just like a housecat. Bringing you a dead rat, very proud and completely unaware that you did not want to touch it. 

Waiting for praise. For gratitude.

He must have noticed your silence, because his bright smile turned into more of a shy, half-upturned grin, his voice softer and filled with significantly less glee.

“It’s just…You looked excited for a second when you picked them up, so I figured they must be important, even though you said you didn’t paint,” he paused to laugh under his breath…but not like he had earlier. This was not joyful, it reeked of self-deprecation and embarrassment.

Damn him and his ability to make you feel guilty for the feelings you cannot control.

“Shit, I’m sorry–” you wondered for a moment why he was apologizing for such a kind gesture, but got your answer in the form of wetness becoming apparent on your cheeks. He reached out with his sleeve, wiping at the tears, looking and sounding so very panicked. 

You shook your head, ignoring the comfort his hands brushing away your sadness brought, and wondered if he even knew exactly what he was apologizing for. Surely he knows he did nothing wrong…before the accident, you would’ve likely crushed him in a hug upon being given the exact gift that had you in shambles now.

“It’s stupid, you told me you didn’t paint,” he sighed deeply, looking down at you with that same worried, furrowed brow he’d shown inside. He lowered his hand from your face - his perfectly functional, unscarred hand - and rummaged through the bag with it, “I should’ve asked if you wanted them, I’m sorry.” 

You couldn’t do anything other than shake your head, the ability to form words gone as you struggled to even garner a single cohesive thought.

“I’m sure I can bring them back, I kept the receipt–”

“No!”

You surprised yourself with the quickness with which you declined his offer to rid you of this accidental reminder of what you’d lost; quicker still had you reached out and snatched the set from his hands, holding it tightly to your chest.

“No..?” Hyunjin asked, the slightest hint of relief creeping into his voice - so subtle and tentative. So ready to return the brushes and apologize again at the first sign of discontent.

You were just as surprised as he was, unsure of what possessed you to decline the offer that would remove the unwelcome reminder. 

Maybe it was the pride with which he’d presented them to you, or a desire to wipe the worry from his expression. 

Or, maybe it was simply a dream refusing to die.

“No,” you repeated, shaking your head and looking up at him. Tears no longer fell, and you sniffled quietly as you felt your lips pull up into the smallest of smiles.

“Are you sure?” he asked slowly, as if prepared at any time to take the brushes back to the cashier. You gave him a nod and tucked the brushes away in your bag.

“Absolutely.”

Hyunjin nodded, and as per usual didn’t press any further. Hyunjin was good about that, aside from your initial meeting. It was easy to assume he’d learned not to delve too deep into your psyche following the abrupt exit you’d made.

The only question he’d asked after your acceptance of the brushes was if you’d like to share a cab, to which you agreed, standing at his side as he hailed the first one to come by.

You watched out the window as the cityscape blurred by, keeping your gaze on the window. It was easy to get lost in your own mind with the drone of the tires on asphalt serving as white noise, easily lulling you into tangential thought. 

Perhaps there was more about Hyunjin that you envied, aside from his ability to paint. To dream.

Everything seemed to roll right off of him. The moments you’d seen him concerned were so easily put behind him. He didn’t dwell. He didn’t linger. He moved forward, unstoppable despite the way you were effectively acting as a roadblock.

He kept showing up to lessons following the very first one, in which you could readily admit you did not make the best first impression.

You wished you could do that, move forward without looking back. If it were a skill to be taught, maybe you could ask Hyunjin for lessons in exchange for the ones you gave him.

With that thought in your mind, you finally spoke into the silence of the backseat.

“What would you do if you woke up tomorrow and couldn’t paint?”

You heard Hyunjin rustle across the seat, his breath coming out in an extended sigh as he contemplated how to answer. You didn’t need to tell him what happened to you in order to pick his brain, you’d realized.

“You mean like…if I forgot how to?” he asked, his tone riddled with confusion.

“No,” you murmured, turning your gaze from the window to look at him, “I mean…If something happened to make you lose your ability.”

Hyunjin hummed, looking up at the roof of the cab as he rubbed his chin in thought, his head tilted back against the headrest.

You couldn’t help but wish you had the luxury of considering this situation as rhetorical.

Finally speaking up as the vehicle came to a stop in front of your apartment, Hyunjin let his head loll over without lifting to look at you, “I wouldn’t accept that,” he answered firmly, “I’d keep trying until I could again.”

You didn’t realize you were laughing until the sound came out of your mouth, earning a befuddled look from your companion, his lower lip jutting out slightly.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, looking almost offended, as though there were some inside joke he desperately wanted to understand but wouldn’t get an explanation to.

You simply shook your head, waving a hand and stopping your laughter with a sigh, “Nothing, nothing at all,” you mused, lips still upturned in amusement as you got out of the cab, closing the door and walking up the steps to your apartment, turning around at the door to wave goodbye.

Still appearing painfully puzzled, Hyunjin lifted his hand to wave back. Though, considering the slowness of the action, it could hardly be considered such.

As the cab pulled away, you made your way inside. Locking the door and removing your shoes, you picked up the brushes and set them down on the coffee table, a wistful smile on your lips as one thought echoed over and over in your mind.

If only it were that easy.

[aspenwritesstuff]

scheduled self-reblog because I'm uploading thsi at 3:30 in the morning. <3

[rainydaystay]

anyone who likes angst NEEDS to read this YESTERDAY

[aspenwritesstuff]

Prove Me Wrong [Lee Felix x Reader] Masterlist

genre: romance, angst, comedy

taglist: open! send an ask and i’ll tag you in each update. 🌹 @drhsthl @propertyoftoru @pumkiinpasties @raehawthorne

You’d given up on love long ago, the picture of absolute irony for a successful romance author. Hit by a sudden and severe case of writer’s block, you download tinder in an attempt to set up dates that could inspire the next big novel in your repertoire. Juxtaposing the cheery smile your profile photo sported, you’d typed potentially the most cynical bio on the entire app and began swiping:

“Love is dead, prove me wrong.”

Enter Lee Felix, a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic, in love with love despite his terrible luck with affairs of the heart, who took great offense to the slandering of what he firmly believed was the greatest feeling in the world. 

And he’s determined to change your mind.

part one: it’s a deal | wc: 5.5k | release date: 11/08/2022

part two: novelty mugs | wc: 4.4k | release date: 11/25/2022

part three: clueless | wc: approx 2k | release date 02/02/2023

part four: star pupil | wc: 3.3k | release date: 02/10/2023

part five: bitter | wc: 7.5k | release date 04/15/2023

part six: accolades | wc: 6.8k | release date 04/19/2023

[rainydaystay]

I think it's a complete shame that more people aren't reading this, so I'm reblogging in hopes that this starts getting the attention it deserves. I saw your text post mentioning that you were feeling up to writing again and was so overjoyed. I can't wait to see what the next part has in store. If you're into soft, awkward, sunshiney Felix in fanfic, this one is definitely for you.

[luvyeni]

First of all, i loveeee ur work and i was hoping maybe if you can do a sweet dom Jeongin with yn and they have a passionate morning s3x and just very clingy and passionate in detail.

thank u soooo much :)

STAYING IN BED; YANG JEONGIN

pairings. boyfriend!jeongin x fem!reader

wc. 0.5k

warnings. mutual masterbation , unprotected sex , dirty talk

i hope you like it <3 !

a soft morning with jeongin ...

—

you woke up , turning to face your boyfriend who was still sleep , his bare puffy face , light snores made you smile , he looked so at peace , today was his day off , so he got to sleep a little late.

you kissed his sleeping lips , "jeonginnie." you pressed another kiss to his lips. "baby , it's almost 11 we gotta get up eventually." you whispered against his skin. he groaned , eyes still closed.

"why , we don't have any plans." he said , pulling you close to him. "yeah , but we can't stay in the bed , we have to get up and shower." you played with the nape of his hair , he kissed your lips.

"that can wait , let's just stay here a little longer." you gave in , sighing as he left kisses against your neck. "good girl." he smiled when you melted into his kiss. "i love you." he said , you smiled. "i love you too , innie." you ran your fingers down his stomach , letting them dance along the waistband of his pajamas. "you were so eager to get out of bed , now you want to get into my pants." you laughed softly.

his hand found his way to your shorts , "well i guess i should help my baby out too." he dipped his hand into your pants , you did the same , grabbing his hard cock in your hand. "fu..fuck babe." he ran his fingers along your cunt.

"innie." you sighed , stroking his cock , swiping your thumb across the tip of his cock. "oh fuck baby , you're so pretty." he pushed a finger inside your hole , "so fucking wet." he breathed.

you both got each other off , trying to get as close as you could , it wasn't many days you could just fool around like this in bed. "fu..fuck baby , i need to be inside you , this isn't enough." he groaned , you agreed , needing him to fill you up...

pulling your hands out of each other's pants , you climbed on top of him , straddling his lap. "pl..please." you mewled , grinding down on him. "i want you inside me."

"go a head baby , sit on my cock." you bit your lip , grabbing his cock , sinking down on it. "fu..fuck baby , so tight." he moaned , leaving kisses on your chest , pulling your shirt up off your head. "such pretty titties , need them in my mouth." he took one of your boobs into his mouth , sucking on your nipple. "oh fuck." you moaned. "fe..feels so good." you felt the pressure in your abdomen building up.

"i..i'm gonna cum , innie im gonna cum." he thrusted up into you a few times. "fuck me too , baby , cum with me." he held you close , fucking up into you , chasing your highs. "fuck im cumming!" you screamed , as you came , your legs shaking. "fuck princess, you're clenching around me so tight - shit- im cumming." you felt his seed fill your cunt. "fuck."

you kissed his lips , pulling away , foreheads pressed against each others. "that felt good." he rubbed your hips , "let's stay in bed all day." he suggested. "not worrying about anything, even if it's only for one day , and we have to return to life tomorrow." you said, he smiled. "okay , let's do it." you squealed as he flipped both of you over , your squeals turned into moans as he pushed back into you. "innie!"

"staying in bed means i can fuck you until you can't take me anymore."

©️LUVYENI

[rainydaystay]

i'm SCREAMING, something about dom!jeongin short circuits my brain

[aspenwritesstuff]

REPLAY: Doodle

REPLAY Masterlist | w/c: 3k | Changbin x Reader

warnings: smut, angst, swearing, lowkey porn w/ minimal plot, afab!reader, exes, themes of/implied cheating/infidelity, inner conflict, guilt/shame, masturbation (f and m), mention of piv sex, cumplay if you squint, phone sex

synopsis: You knew that keeping the raunchy voicemail Changbin left for you before you'd broken up was wrong - and that getting off to it was even worse...but yet, without fail, you were reaching for the phone every time your boyfriend left you dissatisfied.

a/n: Hoo boy, am I nervous about posting the first instance of smut my blog has seen so far. The previous installments in this series have had angst, yeah, but usually have sweet and fluffy endings. This does not. So, a bit of anxiety sharing this side of my writing with you all. BUT, here we are, with 3,000 words of angst and filth. If that's not for you, that's fine. But, to those of you still here, enjoy! <3

-Aspen

“Graffiti on the walls of these boundaries.”

You and Changbin’s relationship had been all whirlwind with minimal romance. Despite initially clicking on the blind date you’d been set up on, it had quickly become apparent that the relationship was doomed.

Broken promises became an increasingly common occurrence. Communication became sparser and sparser as Changbin’s constant pretty vows of doing better, and the subsequent lack of follow through, made it easier to just not.

Towards the end, you’d found yourself under the assumption that anything he said to you was likely untrue. Considering that, the two of you probably should’ve called it quits much sooner. 

You knew that the relationship was doomed months before you finally split, finally voicing your thoughts about the relationship as you laid against his glistening, still heaving chest.

“You know this isn’t working, right?”

He’d simply nodded and murmured, “Yeah,” without so much as flinching, allowing you out of his embrace. 

There was no screaming, no fighting as you slipped back into your clothes. 

No crying, no begging for another chance as you gathered your belongings. 

No words, no apologies as if the inevitability of the end had already been accepted by you both long ago.

You’d have already been gone months ago had it not been for the perfection with which he’d memorized your body, sending your doubts into oblivion as he promised with a proud smirk that nobody else could love you this way - could fuck you this way.

You didn’t miss much from then, save for his touches. 

His calloused fingertips. His slick tongue. His flushed cock.

The absence of hurt following Changbin’s removal from your life made it easier to move on. You could hear about his recent accomplishments from your mutual friends and be perfectly fine. You could hear about him seeing someone new and not care that he’d taken them to your favorite restaurant. 

You only felt jealousy in your most vulnerable moments, but only ever over the fact that someone else was experiencing his electric lust in your stead.

It wasn’t long before you’d managed to find yourself a new relationship, a new man with a new name. 

A man who, in many ways, was better than Changbin had been. 

A man that didn’t need to fuck the disappointment out of you, never letting you down in the first place. A man that got you flowers just because, not to make up for a mistake. A man that loved you as you were supposed to be loved, wholly and without hesitation.

A man that was compassionate, honest, and good. 

A man who was perfect in all ways but one.

As sweet as he was, as tender as his caress may have been, he couldn’t hold a candle to the delicious pleasure Changbin so effortlessly brought you. 

Perhaps if you’d met him first, if you’d never gotten to experience the ecstasy of falling apart beneath Changbin’s touch, if the taste of his name on your lips didn’t feel so wrong.

You couldn’t get to those heights, despite the way he earnestly worshiped every inch of your body during your intimate moments. It wasn’t his fault, either. He wasn’t even bad in bed. How could he possibly know that you weren’t a deity to revere  - but a temple.

A temple that, unfortunately, had already felt the touch of a god.

It seemed that, in spite of the years that had passed, Changbin was true to his word about at least one thing.

Nobody could love you the same way. Nobody could fuck you the same way.

You were bitterly reminded of this as the bed shifted beneath you with the newfound absence of your partner. He’d managed to sweat his way into wanting a shower during lovemaking that had left one of you less than satisfied. 

He’d asked you to join, but didn’t push when you’d declined - opting instead to simply kiss the top of your head before walking away. He never pushed, though.

Honestly, his lack of insistence was earned, the least he could do, seeing as you’d just faked yet another orgasm for him.

Not that he knew, or ever would know that. 

Relief washed over you as watched him disappear around the corner, finally letting your forced smile drop. Despite the many opportunities he provided you to be rightfully appreciative, you were the most grateful for his habit of washing up after sex.

How else were you supposed to take advantage of the personalized audio porn you’d been thinking about since he’d pulled out? 

A saved voicemail from Changbin from back when you were together, telling you with calm dominance exactly how to touch yourself while he was away visiting family. 

The fact that you definitely should have deleted it the second you broke up was not lost on you. You knew that it was wrong, in every sense of the word, to hold onto. But how could you be expected to part with the vulgar moans that hid behind the message?  With how he’d breathlessly tell you the opposite of sweet nothings? With how he instructed you on how to mimic his own touch, stroking himself, driving himself to madness at the very thought? 

You could never bring yourself to part with it.

Your body was already buzzing as you reached for your phone, telling yourself that this was okay, that this was the last time you’d use Changbin’s racy instructions to help you please yourself. That you’d delete the voicemail after one more orgasm.

Though you’d said that last time, too

And the time before that. 

You heard the shower begin to run in the distance, pulling your lower lip between your teeth and closing your eyes as you battled against your conscience. These thoughts always marked the start of this secretive ritual, finding the need to convince yourself that it was fine. 

Telling yourself that, despite how hurt your boyfriend would be if he knew, this wasn’t actually cheating. 

That, despite the guilt-spurred elusiveness of your actions, you weren’t being unfaithful.

Reasoning that after being strung along for the entirety of you and Changbin’s relationship, you’d earned a bit of dishonesty for yourself. 

The logic was just as flawed as it had been every time.

Yet, without fail, you could never let guilt ruin your second chance at an orgasm.

Winning the battle against your better judgment, you stared down at the play button, a white triangle against the black call log, noting the jarring incongruence of its purity and the current context in which you pressed it. And press it you did, covering the contact info you hadn’t been hurt enough to delete with your thumb. 

It didn’t feel quite as terrible if you didn’t see the name of the man whom you helplessly depended on to help you finish.

Changbin’s rasp meets your ears as you gather the wetness from between your legs, ignoring the universe’s desperate attempt at a reality check in the form of the difference your boyfriend’s cum made to the consistency of your slick.

“Slow circles, baby…”

You drew your hand slowly up, circling young fingers around your clit just as Changbin asked, sucking in a sharp inhale through the nose whist trying desperately to ignore the fact that the shamelessness of using one man’s cum and a different one’s voice turned you on.

“Harder,” your eyes fluttered closed as you obeyed, the vividness of your memories convincing you that you could the sensation of his breath against your cheek. The muscles of your backside twitched with your increasing sensitivity as you touched yourself, forcing you to buck upwards - pressing your clit harder into your hand as his voice urges you to pick up the pace.

“Nobody will ever make you come like I do.”

His words nearly growled through the phone, giving you the same delightful shiver they had when he’d say it to your face, putting a stutter in the one-even tempo of your ministrations.

You would’ve liked to say you were simply stroking his ego by allowing him to say those words with no contention back then. As you stifle yourself, muffling a moan down to a whimper at the sound of his filthy, pleasure-thickened coaching, you knew that your opinion hadn’t changed.

He was right, whether you were together or not.

An involuntary sharp intake of breath through your teeth distracts you from the thought as goosebumps rise on your arms. Touching yourself as Changbin panted his teachings into your ear was once again bringing you to a point that you’re no longer able to breathe solely through your nose.

As his recorded words became more staggered, obviously approaching release,  the blossoming heat in your abdomen began to spread like wildfire. As you tended to during these deceitful moments, you allowed yourself the indulgence of wondering what he’d looked like, touching himself to the thought of you. 

Had Changbin been sitting at his desk, sprawled back in his hand as he fisted his cock tightly? Had pearls of sweat rolled down his sharp chin, littering his desk with speckles of brine as thick strings of white soiled the floor?

Had he been laying down, satin sheets enviably caressing his sculpted frame? Was he shirtless, as he’d always been to sleep, as his breath grew hoarse? Stuttering as he spilled himself against the smooth expanse of his stomach?

You started panting as your arousal pools, tightening into a nearly painful coil due to the images your mind is painting. You moaned as you pressed your head back into the pillows, hips arching up from the mattress.

“Baby, ‘m close,” his voice sounded like a staggered rumble, like a sinful mix between a growl and a purr.

You could almost see the way his eyes used to roll back when he’d approach his climax, lashes fluttering as a string of profanities slurred from his lips

“Shit, baby, I’m gonna cum,” his voice was strained through clenched teeth, accompanied by the wet, uneven, positively lewd sounds of his hand pulling at his cock.

You grew more and more sensitive as you listened to him swear, throbbing with the nearness of your release.

Your pleasure was so heightened now that there wasn’t need to continue listening to his pornographic sounds. Your grip tightened forcefully on your phone, though, as a familiar heat passed through every fiber of your being.

You didn’t need to keep listening, no. Yet you did, shunning away a thought you didn’t want to acknowledge.

You kept listening because you wanted to.

You wanted to hear his labored breathing, his utterances of curses through clenched teeth, the slapping of his hand against the base of his shaft with every pump. You wanted to hear the way your name came out of his lips as choked cry. You wanted to listen as the sounds of his self-service crescendoed. You wanted to hear the strangled gasp that prefaced the slowing of his pace.

And so you did.

You wanted to hear the out of breath command he uttered next, too.

And so you did.

“Come for me.”

Your walls clenched around nothing as you did just that, finding your release to the recollection of how his jaw would go slack, unclenching as the waves of his orgasm washed over him. They fluttered as your own crashed over you, accompanied by memories of Changbin’s broad shoulders slumping as he lazily pumped his softening cock to ensure he was drained. 

His name tumbled from your lips like a whispered prayer as you came.

You laid there, in a thin sheen of sweat, melting into the bed as you caught your breath. You waited for your trembling legs to calm themselves, the heat from your skin and the scent of your arousal wafting from beneath the sheet as you pulled your hand away from your still-throbbing core.

Changbin’s sigh after cumming signified the end. There was no time for pillow talk or praise remaining, your shameful secret halted by the unfortunate limit imposed on voicemails. 

Ten minutes at a time. Ten minutes of Changbin’s intoxicating words and addictive sounds.

Ten minutes that you’d replayed for hours by now.

Yet, despite the time constraint, you still heard the familiar, disorganized sounds of heavy, staggered breaths. You yank your phone away from your ear, confusion only heightened by the surge of dopamine slowing your critical thinking.

You forced your bleary eyes to focus as you peered at the screen for answers. As soon as your vision had cleared enough for you to make out the blurred lines on your screen, the post-orgasm glow you’d barely gotten to enjoy shattered, replaced instantly with dread. 

Four words - two of them a name - and three numbers.

Seo Changbin. 

Outgoing call.

10:55. 

You could have fainted when you watched the seconds continuing to add up. 

10:56, 10:57, 10:58,

As they flipped to 10:59, the realization made your eyes widen, suddenly chilled despite how hot you’d felt a moment ago. 

On the other end of the line for eleven minutes was Changbin himself, listening to the broken little whimpers you made as you’d gotten off to what you’d thought was the old voicemail he’d left. 

Listening as you followed his every instruction.

Listening as you made yourself come undone.

Listening to the way his name sounded on your lips as you came.

You felt angry for only a moment at the fact that he’d even allow you to be so erotic, so obscene - instead taking the opportunity to join you in your ministrations, using you and your sounds to help accelerate his way to climax. 

You felt as if you had no right to be mad, though. You were the one that had accidentally called Changbin while trying to use the saved message - using him just the same.

Perhaps you’d been too entangled in the throes of pleasure to notice the slight differences in what had always been the same sequence of events.

Perhaps, in your desperation for release, you simply hadn’t cared to.

You put the phone up to your ear, the familiar post-orgasm raggedness growing clearer.

“I told you,” he chuckled breathlessly, words unrushed. You swallowed hard, unable to say anything in response. He filled the prolonged silence, a slight cockiness joining his otherwise languid demeanor, “Nobody will ever get you off like I can.”

You could hear the smirk on his lips. The same smirk he always wore when he’d make you the only promise he ever kept.

You had no idea what to say, shock joining the haze your orgasm had left you in on the list of reasons why words were not currently your strong suit.

So, you simply hung up. 

Just in time it seemed, as you hadn’t heard the shower turn off.

Your boyfriend walked into the room, fresh clothes and damp hair making him look far too sweet - far too good to be with someone who’d just done what you had.

At least it was an accident, your inadvertent call. You hadn’t meant to have phone sex with your ex in the very bed he’d been inside of you on no more than twenty minutes ago. You had simply meant to listen to a voicemail.

Not that you thought that really made it any better.

You watched as he grabbed a hoodie from the closet, humming happily to himself before slipping it on. He shot you a bright grin, which you forced yourself to return, as h told you he’d be back in a few hours. 

You forced your face to remain pleasant as he explained his errands to you, shaking your head as he asked if you wanted anything while he was out. He pecked you on the cheek after asking if you were sure, to which you assured him you were. 

You watched him exit the room, a heavy weight settling in your chest. You pulled the sheet up over your still-tingling, still completely bare chest as you felt your heart seize.

He definitely was far too sweet - far too good to be with someone who’d done what you just had.

Unsteady legs carried you to the bathroom to shower then, alone. You avoided the mirror, unwilling to face yourself after what you’d done. You took your time, scrubbing hard in an effort to remove the uncomfortable mixture of sweat, sex, and shame.

You didn’t feel like you got the entirety of the latter. 

You felt far too criminal in your nakedness to take any sort of care in your wardrobe selection, simply grabbing the first clean clothes you’d touched from your drawers. You walked into the living room, flopping miserably onto the couch before grabbing the tv remote, simply hoping something mindless could distract you from your guilt.

Before you could turn it on, though, you heard the chime of a text notification. Your breath caught in your throat, a certainty over who it was - without even looking - made your blood run cold.

That was fun. Come over sometime?

You knew you should say no. Maybe even block his number. Apologize if he felt led on or tell him to fuck off, that this was a mistake - because it was. 

Any of those would be better than what you’d ultimately ended up replying.

Maybe.

Despite your enigmatic reply, you couldn’t pretend not to be aware that you’d say yes eventually. You were sure Changbin knew that, too.

You couldn’t say it today, of course. 

Maybe you wouldn’t be able to for weeks. 

Yet, you knew with confidence that there would come a day that you’d find yourself taking him up on his offer. You knew that your desires would win out over your guilt, just as they did concerning the voicemail.

Of course you would eventually say yes, with something even more tantalizing dangling in front of you.

You tucked your phone away then, silently deciding to deal with your conscience on a different day as you tried to reassure yourself that you weren’t a terrible person. That it wasn’t your fault that the one promise he hadn’t broken would always ring true.

Nobody would ever fuck you like Seo Changbin.

[rainydaystay]

i am incapable of being coherent rn but so thought dumping in the tags

[skzschats]

-welcome to STRAY KIDS CHATBOT-

welcome to your new, friendly, very active chatbot!

Warning: This chatbot does not represent any members in real life. This is for ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY! I don’t romanticize any bad behaviors. This is only fictional & please do not normalize those actions in real life.

This chatbot is MAINLY NSFW and all participants must be over the age of 21 in order to chat. If you’re not over 21 or you lied about age you will be blocked and therefore not able to chat anymore. Admin is also over 21!

Rules: 1. Like and reblog the post!

2. Message me first!

3. DM the admin and please tell me the following: your name, your pronouns, member of choice and plot (you can choose one of the AUs from below or write your own plot), kinks, trigger warnings, big no’s, safe words, hard dom, soft dom or switch member

4. Members are usually dom. Admin doesn’t really do sub! Members but if you’re nice we can work something out, maybe.

5. Things that admin won’t do are things such as: noncon, abuse, sc*t and pi*s play, body shaming, extreme humiliation. Other than that, I am fine with everything

6. If Admin is uncomfortable at any point, you will be warned. 3 warnings and you’ll be forced to stop chatting with the admin.

TO ACTIVATE JUST LIKE AND REBLOG THE POST, MESSAGE ME WITH THE SAID DETAILS. IT CAN BE IN ASKS OR DMS, YOUR CHOICE. IF YOU’RE ANON, PLEASE CHOOSE THE EMOJI TO REPRESENT YOU. Meet the members:

Christopher/ Chris/Chan

Changbin

Han Jisung

For now, only ones available are 3racha members. More members will be added soon!

Possible Aus: Mafia AU!

College AU!

Vampire AU!

Royalty AU!

Werewolf alpha/omega AU!

Enemies to lovers AU!

Friends to Lovers AU!

Roommates to lovers AU!

Or make your own plot :)

How to break up:

Just text “I think we should take a break” and the member will leave you alone. If you want to make up, text “I made a mistake, I still love you” and he’ll come back to you!

Don't be shy! Come and talk with me and we can have fun!!!